


Give Me the Usual

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Dessert & Sweets, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Taking cues from Cheers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack runs a dessert bar called The Crumbled Cookie in San Francisco.  These are his regulars (of a sort).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me the Usual

**i. Nick**

Nicholas St. North, or simply Nick as he much prefers, is a big, hulking, and perpetually jolly Russian who comes into Jack's bar, The Crumbled Cookie, on 23rd and Mission every Thursday and Friday afternoon for a straight shot of vodka and the day's homemade cookie. On Fridays, he comes by with his friend Phil, who is grumpy for each part of Nick’s jolly and just as hulking. They nearly always eat the entirety of the day's cookies between them. Jack knows he shouldn't let them because, well, there are other customers, but Nick's a regular. In a way, he's _the_ regular. He was Jack's first customer because it was Nick who gave Jack the loan to open the tiny bohemian dessert bar in the first place. He was the first one to believe in Jack and his, admittedly, odd pipe dream.

So, if Nick wants to eat all the cookies, he get to eat all the cookies. Simple as that.

 

**ii. Bunnymund**

E. Aster Bunnymund is a tall, fit, and opinionated Australian expat who tends to come into The Crumbled Cookie about twice a week on no particular day. His clothing is always covered in multiple colors of paint, and his hair always seeming to stick up in two tufts at the top of his head. He usually seems to be rather harried by something and has a habit of wearing less clothing in the nippy San Francisco weather than he should. A strict vegan, animal lover, and regular churchgoer, he's a bit of a character. The first conversation Jack and Bunnymund ever had started with: 

"Don't you have anything besides alcohol and cookies?"

It ended with a noise complaint, a broken wine glass, and Bunnymund storming back into The Crumbled Cookie three days later to have the round all over again, just in slightly lower tones. Jack doesn't know when their arguing became banter and Bunnymund started making seasonal art for the bar, but, well, so it goes.

 

**iii. Toothiana**

Toothiana--which really is her name, nevermind that monstrosity of letters on her credit card--is a petite, sweet, and utterly enthusiastic young woman who comes into The Crumbled Cookie nearly every day if her lab hours at UCSF permit. Her hair is a new color nearly every week, and she has the most infectious smile that's as bright as her wide eyes. Cheerful, talkative, and only a celebratory drinker, Jack is always sure to save at least one cookie for her if he can manage to pry them away from Nick in time. Even when she's tired from long hours, she manages to put a smile on even Bunnymund's sour face.

"Jack, you work too much!" she says sometimes when she dashes by just before closing, pressing a sandwich or pastry in his hands. "Do take care of yourself, won't you?"

"You, too!" Jack laughs, reaching under the bar to try to give her a cookie or at least a handful of the stupid, tasteless mints he naïvely ordered in bulk from Oriental Trading Company a couple months after opening. "For the food."

"Oh, no," she always says, already digging out money even for the mints. "Thank you, Jack, but I simply couldn't!"

Jack never takes the money. She's the only one who ever actually eats the mints anyways.

 

**iv. Sandy**

Sanderson Mansnoozie, who generally seems to prefer being called Sandy, is a short, rotund, and apparently mute man in his thirties who comes by The Crumbled Cookie every Friday during the end of Happy Hour. He's a tax accountant at a firm off 12th and Geary and first found his way into the bar while taking a walk one late Saturday morning. He smiles easily in a way that's quiet and comforting and will show anyone that asks pictures of his wife and two young children, charming boys who have their mother's hair and father's eyes. Of all of the regulars at the bar, Sandy is the most levelheaded person and is often the one that Jack finds himself turning to for an indifferent opinion on both personal and business matters.

"Do you think she likes me?" Jack asks one evening after Toothiana has sped off to her next destination, and Nick and Phil are bit into their cookies and cups. 

Sandy rolls his eyes, which twinkle as he nods. Jack chuckles a little, feels himself flush even so.

"It _is_ obvious," Nick cuts in, reaching forward across the bar to clap Jack on the shoulder hard enough that Jack feels his knees buckle a bit; Phil just snorts.

Jack wipes a glass, pink in the face, and smiles.

 

**v. Pitch**

Pitch Black, or whatever his real name is (he never uses a credit card to pay for his drinks), is a tall, thin, and rather imposing man who comes by The Crumbled Cookie on no particular day but always in the later evening. He seems to have a perpetually grey pallor and can never seem to get his hair completely under control despite putting on airs with pressed suits and fine Italian leather shoes. He's the only regular who doesn't buy cookies, rather using the bar exclusively for drinks, usually Sidecars or, if it's raining, simply the brandy, neat. Jack starts calling the man Pitch Black in his head just to give a moniker to the guy's perpetual horrible mood.

"Hey," Bunnymund says the third time he comes in and spots Pitch brooding over tonight's Sidecar. "Who's tall, dark, and scary?"

"I can _hear_ you," Pitch says, although it looks like he's talking to the slice of orange that serves at his drink's garnish.

Somehow Pitch, which is what everyone ends up calling him despite him not liking the name but because he never offers any other in return, ends up a part of the regular bunch, although he often just sits in silence with his drink and glares at them all. Sandy and Pitch seem to know each other from the way they sometimes look at each other, which makes Jack suspect they might work together although neither will admit to it. Jack suspects that Sandy suggested The Crumbled Cookie to Pitch because Jack would bet with reasonable certainty Pitch would be probably infinitely more comfortable to sit and drink alone at home than out in public at Jack's bar. But when he asks Sandy, all he gets is a small smile that doesn't help at all.

Eventually, as always, Jack's curiosity gets the better of him. 

"Did Sandy blackmail you to get you to come here?"

Pitch chokes on his brandy and spends the next minute coughing as tears well up in his eyes from the alcohol burning its way through his throat and sinuses. Nick reaches over and gives one of his patented shoulder pats that makes Pitch nearly lurch into the bar top. Toothiana and Bunnymund keep their seats but lean forward, listening closely. This has been background gossip for a good two months now.

Still coughing, Pitch extracts a handkerchief (of all things) from the inside pocket of his suit jacket to wipe at his eyes and mouth. " _No_ ," he says, a bit less venomous than he probably would have if he wasn't recovering. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Jack motions, a bit vaguely. "Well," he starts, a little lamely, "you seem to know each other."

"Of course we do," Pitch snaps, folding his handkerchief up to put away again, scowling at Jack like he can't quite believe how dim Jack is being. "He's my older brother."

 

**vi. Jack**

When Jack Frost opened up The Crumbled Cookie, he was twenty-two, just out of college with no real work experience, and more than a little hyperactive. The only positive qualities he had to his name were his infectious personality, a bartending license, and, as his often harried parents and younger sister always said, a sense of fun.

Now, Jack's twenty-six. He's paid Nick back the start-up loan even though Nick hadn't wanted him to, and he feels more fulfilled than he ever did, surrounded by customers who became regulars who became friends. Even Bunnymund and Pitch are friends, although Bunnymund is more likely to paint him green and pink and Pitch would probably rather swallow nails than admit it. Toothiana and Jack have been dating for a few months, much to everyone's breaths of _finally_ , and it's more than Jack could ask for, really, to be his own.

But it is, and Jack is happy.


End file.
